This Time
by Charli Petidei
Summary: Toris Laurinaitis has no memory of the life he lived before a gunshot wound five years ago sent him into a year-long coma and lost him the use of his right arm. So when seemingly ditzy interior designer Feliks Łukasiewicz appears, with a mysterious past and a secret seeming to involve him, Toris knows he has to find out more and piece together what really happened 5 years ago.
1. An Unexpected Meeting

**This Time**

**Summary**: Toris Laurinaitis has no memory of the life he lived before a gunshot wound five years ago sent him into a year-long coma and lost him the use of his right arm. So when seemingly ditzy interior designer Feliks Łukasiewicz appears, with a mysterious past and a secret seeming to involve him, Toris knows he has to find out more and piece together what really happened 5 years ago.

**Warnings**: Language, feels, slash pairings, Poland speak (which obviously merits its own warning XD), possible triggers, violence, and not insignificant waits between chapters.

_Chapter One: An Unexpected Meeting_

**_Enjoy~!_**

* * *

He was talking on his phone this time.

Toris Laurinaitis' face coloured slightly and he nervously brushed back a strand of chestnut hair from his face, looking away. He stood swaying on a crowded train on the way to London at eight o'clock in the morning, brown satchel slung over his narrow shoulders and banging insistently against his hip with every jolt of the rickety carriage. He wore an immaculate light grey suit which had obviously been crisply folded, but in places almost seemed a little big for him, as though he was somewhat lost inside it. A pair of smart but slightly scuffed black shoes were slipped on his unsteady feet, and his tousled brown hair hung in waves around a delicate, angled face. The overall combination of his posture and clothing gave the impression of someone a little unsure of who he was or what he was doing there.

In fact Toris _was_ sure of who he was, and what he was doing there; but that was pretty much all.

His name was Toris Laurinaitis, he was Lithuanian by birth, and he was on the train on his way to London for work. That he knew for sure. So at least that was something.

Because Toris was twenty six years old, but could only remember the last four years of his life.

* * *

Toris looked over at the man again. Yes, he was talking very loudly and animatedly on his phone that morning. Blonde hair bouncing around his face as he spoke, green eyes shining with mischief and amusement, perfectly manicured hands gesticulating wildly.

"No way! Oh my God! She didn't! Oh my gosh! I can't believe...no?! That is just... Wow. I can't even think of what to say! And like, what did _he_ do when he saw?! Wait, wait, don't tell me! My stop's coming up, so I've like, got to go soon. Mmm. Oh, but I am _totally _coming round yours to get the full story later, okay, okay? Don't protest!"

The man spoke with an odd accent - mainly Polish, something told Toris - but there was a hint of Toris' own accent in there, something that held strains of someone who had once lived in Russia.

Toris was brought from his thoughts by the man continuing eagerly.

"No, don't you even _think _of baking anything. I swear, Chaz, you start baking something and I will, like, come and repaint your living room again. Fuschia would just look _fab_. Haha, yes. Anyway, honey, I have to go now, but love you all! Tell Simon hey from me, kay? Yeah, yeah, you too. Love ya!" And he clicked his phone off, slipped it into a pocket, hoisted his satchel onto his shoulder, and as the train slid to an abrupt stop, he walked smoothly over to the doors, brushing past Toris as he did so without looking at him, and got off the train.

Toris stumbled to follow his example, grabbing his bag and stepping out of the doors, but by the time he was on the platform the stranger had been swallowed up by the crowd, and sighing, Toris headed off to work alone, mentally beating himself up for being such a coward.

This would happen every day.

Toris had to go up to London every day of the week other than sunday for his job as an accountant in the city, and the man with the blonde hair and the bright green eyes and the excited way of talking that made Toris desperately want to know what was going on, went up every day too. And it was always at the same time as Toris, always the same train, always the same stop.

Always.

It wasn't even like Toris knew the man, or his name, or what he was doing on the train, or, in fact, _anything_ about him. He could be a serial killer for all Toris knew.

But Toris still wanted to talk to him.

The man was just so _interesting,_ with his odd mannerisms and somewhat feminine appearance, and though Toris knew he would never be able to pluck up the courage to talk to him in a million years, there was still a _pull_ towards him and Toris kept hoping something might make the man look up from his nails or his phone or the ridiculous vampire romance novels he had seen him reading on more than one occasion and actually _see_ him.

Because the man didn't even know Toris existed.

He'd never made eye contact. Never said a word to him. Never glanced in his direction.

Nothing.

And that was why Toris needed so desperately to meet him.

Toris realised he'd come to the building where he worked already and changed direction quickly to walk inside.

He wasn't particularly enamoured with his job, but it paid and Toris got money and it kept his mind from dwelling on those 21 unknown years, all that time where he had no idea where he lived or what he did or who he knew.

Toris could have done _anything _in those years and he simply wouldn't know. Couldn't know.

Hell, he didn't even know if he was a virgin or not.

Toris just wished he could remember his other life. Because it was true, it wasn't the same life he lived now. Not at all. He'd lived a whole other life before this one, one that he had no memory or recollection of, whatsoever.

A whole other life.

And Ivan, Raivis and Eduard - the people he lived with now - seemed determined not to help him. Toris had a feeling they knew something more than they were telling him.

The story they'd told the hospital when they'd brought an unconscious, half-dead Toris in, lying in Ivan's arms, having lost so much blood there was next to no hope of saving him, was that they'd been travelling in London and they'd used a backstreet shortcut to try and catch the train back on time, but a stranger had been hiding in the alley with a gun, and when they walked in he'd obviously freaked out and sprayed them with bullets. Toris was the only one to get hit.

The hospital just about bought it, but there wasn't much time for them to delve deeper because the rapidly deteriorating Toris needed instant help or he would have died.

And though they'd fixed him up, he'd lain in a coma for a whole year, every day more and more nurses and doctors writing him off as another lost cause, everybody simply starting to lose hope.

_But something brought him back._

Waking up had been a horrible experience. Toris remembered it vividly. His mouth had been dry and everything just _ached._ Every single muscle was stiff from year-long disuse, his eyes stuck when he tried to blink and they didn't focus properly either, and worst of all was just the awful _confusion_.

The terrifying realisation that you didn't have a clue who you were, _where _you were, or what had happened to you. Nurses had rushed into the ward immediately and everything from then on for several months was a whirl of being checked over by astonished doctors, being asked repeatedly what he could remember in a bizarre mixture of Lithuanian, Russian, and English - to which the answer was always nothing - hearing brief snatches of information about his situation, and most of all just complete, utter. total disorientation.

It was an experience Toris never, ever wanted to repeat.

When he woke up he found he could remember early, vague things: like he found he already knew how to talk and he knew how to count and somehow he knew how to speak both Lithuanian and Russian - so even though he'd begun his new life in English, he had a Russian-style accent that showed no signs of disappearing. He could function well enough, but as he had no real experiences with which to draw on in everyday life, he was still...quite simply, a _child,_ in so many ways.

It had been difficult for him to learn English. Very difficult. But he'd eventually got used to it, having been thrown so suddenly into the language as he had been. He would never be a poet or anything, but he got by and he don't feel like so much of a foreigner anymore. And he rather liked England, he supposed.

Not that he had anything to compare it to.

Nobody knew what had caused him to wake up so unexpectedly.

The doctors said there must have been someone, or some_thing _important in his other life, which had prompted him to wake up. Forced him to come back. Apparently Toris must have had such a strong tie to life, to someone, or something, that it had brought him back from the verge of death.

Toris had something really important to live for.

And he didn't know what it was.

Even the fact that Toris had gone into a coma at all was unusual. A bullet to the shoulder technically shouldn't have affected his brain one bit - and as most comas were induced by brain damage or head wounds, his situation was practically unheard of. And he'd lost so much blood by the time he'd got to the hospital he should really have died. But he didn't. Instead he was sent into a coma he shouldn't have been. And no one knew why. There were theories, ideas that maybe the extreme loss of blood and the shock was what had induced it, or that he should have died but was so determined to stay alive that he went into a coma instead... Nobody could be quite sure.

Ivan had told Toris the same story about the London back alley and the crazy gunman, but Toris just didn't believe him. Of course the part about the bullet being the cause was obviously true, but as for the circumstances... Ivan clearly knew something but was determined not to tell him, and it pained Toris every single day.

The bullet had gone into the back of his right shoulder (another reason why Ivan's story seemed implausible), and had effectively severed the muscles and tendons and ligaments there; resulting in Toris' right arm being sentenced to hang, useless by his side, for the rest of his new life.

He couldn't feel it, couldn't move it...

Nothing.

He had completely lost the use of it.

So no memory, only one usable arm, a fractured relationship with possibly the only people that might ever be able to tell Toris the true story, a dead end job that left him going nowhere, and something important enough to call him back from death that he simply _couldn't remember._

The doctors said Toris was a living miracle.

He sure didn't feel like one.

* * *

The train was crowded this time.

It was the ride back home again the same day, and Toris had been unfortunate enough to miss the train he usually took and now had to travel on the slightly later one, which was crammed with people and jolted unstably at every available opportunity.

But evidently, it seemed Toris wasn't the only one.

"Seriously, that's exactly what he said. No joke. Oh m- oh yeah, I know right? Like, Chaz was telling me this morning. No...? Oh, I wonder why? Pfffft, no. You are a nutter in the best possible way, Nat. Yeah, course. Still love ya. As always. Yes, yes, I wouldn't change a thing. Jake can back me up. Oh, is he there? Hi Jake! Oh, _shut up_! How are your wedding plans going, you two? Remember, you can rely on me to get the fabrics and stuff you need. Of course! You guys are totally, like, the cutest couple ever, I'm not screwing the decor up on your big day for anybody! Oh, and I forbid you to use pastel. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise, I will, like, come and attack them, or something. Haha! Oh God, no... Yeah. Nope. Oh, can you, like, _believe_ I missed the first train? I'm such an idiot. Yeah, I'm on the later one so I'm gonna get home late. Yay for me!"

Toris grinned to himself. The man had obviously missed his train too.

So at least Toris had some form of entertainment for the journey.

The man's phone calls were always interesting. He talked to such a variety of people that it was hard to keep up. So many people, so many places, so many things Toris had never even heard of.

Some might have said it was rude to listen to other people's phone conversations.

But the man talked so exuberantly and loudly that it was hard not to.

Toris grinned.

He guessed this was probably actually the closest he'd ever been to him. He'd always kept his distance, shy and timid as he was, and the blonde had never noticed him. Now, this time, there was nobody else between them, and if the man turned just slightly, he would see Toris.

Toris took a breath and pushed a strand of chestnut brown hair back from his face. It was really quite long now - it would be down to his shoulders soon and probably did need cutting, but Toris liked it like that.

Raivis had once said that Toris always used to wear his hair long before _it_ had all happened, and then stopped quickly as if he'd said something he shouldn't have.

Toris knew Raivis, Eduard and Ivan were keeping secrets from him. He just wished he knew _why_. What on earth was so dreadful about his past that he couldn't know about it?

The train rattled around a corner and the blonde man shrieked loudly and grabbed onto the pole in the centre of the carriage to stop his fall.

Toris had to stop himself from laughing out loud as the man giggled quietly to himself and then gabbled a quick goodbye into his phone before putting it back in his jacket and clinging tighter onto the pole.

Toris' hair blew over his face as the train turned another sharp corner and he sighed. Once the train had levelled out again, Toris lifted his hand off of the pole attached to the ceiling of the carriage to brush his hair back away from his face, other arm dangling uselessly as always, and:-

_BAM_.

The train swerved wildly and Toris, with nothing to hang onto, pitched forward with the train's momentum and fell none-too-gracefully into the arms of an unsuspecting man with long blonde hair and wide astonished green eyes.

"Oh!" Toris gasped, struggling to get to his feet and not succeeding as the train rocked again. "I'm so sorry-I-"

The man was staring disbelievingly at him.

And then suddenly his scent washed over Toris and he found himself spinning, falling...

That smell...Toris knew it. Something so individual, so unique, so... Toris _recognised_ it from somewhere!

Toris blushed bright red, reached out his left hand, grabbed onto the pole, and staggered to his feet. He met the blonde's eyes again, who was still just staring at him, mouth open slightly. It would have been comical if Toris was not so mortified.

This was not how he had wanted to be introduced.

"I'm really sorry about that, I, er. I can't..." Toris trailed off and the man blinked at him.

What was he supposed to do?!

Toris didn't exactly have the usual amount of experiences to draw on, but he doubted this was a situation many people found themselves in. He had no idea what the protocol was.

"I am sorry," he tried.

The man blinked suddenly, and when Toris staggered as the train rocked again, seemed to come out of his stupor. He took an unsteady step closer to Toris, staring into his eyes as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Toris shifted back awkwardly, feeling decidedly panicky now.

The man flinched as Toris edged away, as if pained by something. There was a long pause and then he seemed to reach some decision. His face broke into a nonchalant smile that transformed his features and lit up his entire face.

"Oh, it's totally fine, don't worry," he said.

Toris frowned bemusedly and took a hesitant breath. "Yeah, I...sorry. I lost my balance, and..."

The man grinned at him. "It's fine."

There was another pause and then as if reaching another internal decision, he stuck out one of those perfectly manicured hands and beamed at him. "My name's Feliks Łukasiewicz. Nice to meet you."

Completely disorientated now, Toris shook his head, attempting to right his confused thoughts. "Um."

He hooked his feet either side of the pole to gain his balance, let go of the pole, and lifted his one usable hand to shake.

But it was the wrong one.

Feliks was holding out his right hand. But obviously, Toris' right hand was immobile.

Feliks stared at Toris' outstretched arm, then dropped his own proffered hand and lifted his left hand to shake, a confused expression on his face. He looked down at Toris' lifeless right arm.

"Is...are you ok?"

Toris felt himself flinch. "Yeah,

I... I just..." He took a breath. "I can't use my right arm."

"Oh!" Feliks' mouth dropped open and his eyes flitted to Toris' shoulder, then he looked away as if he'd done something wrong. "What...what happened?"

Toris was sure he was bright red by now. "Bullet to the shoulder," he mumbled. "I can't use my right arm anymore."

Feliks' eyes widened. "Bullet to the shoulder? You must have...did you lose a lot of blood?"

Toris stiffened. Was it normal for strangers to be so curious?

"Uh, yes. I guess. I, er, spent a year in a coma afterwards," he admitted, looking away slightly.

If Feliks' eyes widened any more Toris reckoned they were going to stay stuck like that. "A year? Wow," he breathed.

Toris shifted awkwardly and wished he could hide his arm behind his back.

"How did you...get...shot?"

That was it. The question Toris had been dreading. How was he supposed to answer? He took a breath and subconsciously lifted his hand to brush his hair away from his face.

"I don't know," he answered finally.

Feliks' mouth opened slightly. "Tor- You...you don't know?"

Toris squeezed his eyes shut briefly. "I don't remember. I lost all of my memories. The doctors don't know why, but I...I can't remember a thing before the day I woke up."

Feliks' hand went to his mouth and he gasped quietly. "Wow. That's like...that's pretty major, that."

Toris found his mouth pulling into an unplanned grin. "Yeah."

The train jerked suddenly and then slid to a slow, shuddering halt. Toris looked around wildly and realised it was his stop. "Uh, this is me."

"And me," Feliks said. Toris just managed to stop himself from saying- "Yes, I know."

Instead he smiled tentatively. "So I...I guess I'll see you."

Feliks flashed him a white-toothed grin. "Yeah. Do you take the train everyday?"

Toris nodded a breathless affirmative and then the train doors slid open and the people surrounding them moved towards them to get off, swarming around him and pulling him away him Feliks. Toris stumbled off the train and when a last the swirling crowd started to disperse, he looked around, but couldn't find the Pole.

"See you tomorrow Toris!" he heard Feliks' voice cry over the busy noise of the station. Toris looked up and spotted the blonde's mischievous face and jaunty grin sticking up above the crowd.

"Uh-yeah! See you... Feliks..."

And as he started walking back on his way home, he felt like there was something wrong that he couldn't pinpoint.

Something not quite right.

As he finally got to his door, after several minutes walk and a nervous, darting sprint past a particularly aggressive dog in one of the gardens he passed, fumbling for his keys, Feliks' words swam again to the front of his mind.

_"See you tomorrow Toris!"_

That was strange.

Toris turned the key and pushed open the large, ornate door that marked Ivan out as being wealthier than most of the other inhabitants in the surrounding houses put together.

That was strange.

He didn't remember telling Feliks his name.

* * *

**A.N**

Hey guys! My name is Charli Petidei, and welcome to 'This Time'.

I shall now christen it 'TT' for short XD.

This fic is another of my favourites in this particular AU (people that have read my other fics will know all about this massive AU thing :D), and I love it because... Poland. Yup. He's like my favourite character.

But anyway! This new fic is kind of dark, I guess, but there are no _serious _issues in it like there are in many of my other fics. It mainly deals with memories, secrets, and trust. It is also kind of my shot at trying a 'mystery' style fic, where the main secret of the story isn't revealed for a while.

And this fic is also quite closely attached to another, a RoChu one called 'Somebody I Was Never Meant To Be'. It's not uploaded right now, but should be soon. The stories intertwine and though you don't have to read both, the same characters and some of the same key events appear in both.

Thanks to any of my followers who have read this fic as well! I love my followers and favourite-ers, thank you so much 3 I promise TSAICS will be updated soon and sorry for the wait!

So guys! I hope you're having a great summer so far! My 15th birthday is on the 30th August, so I'm really looking forward to that myself, and I'm sure you guys have other fun stuff to look forward to yourselves as well! And then in September I go back to school for my last year of school before sixth form! Whooh! That's like the final year before college, for any confused Americans :D Happy summer everyone, don't party too much!

So, anyway! Hope you enjoyed the first chapter of TT, and I hope to see you all soon. Reviews are majorly appreciated!

Love y'all!

Keep dreaming,

Charli xxx

P.S. And a brief apology to all the people who read 'Terminal' I DID NOT REALISE SO MANY PEOPLE WOULD BE BAWLING BECAUSE OF ME. I feel so horrible guys! I'm sorry! *Big group hug* I promise I won't do anything like that again... Well...for a while...at least...

Heheh.


	2. A Familiar Stranger

**Chapter Two: A Familiar Stranger**

Toris stepped inside his house and shut the door behind him with a loud bang. Taking a deep breath and flooding his mind with the house's distinctive scent of mismatched air freshener and old boots, he dropped his keys into the bowl by the door and ran a hand through his hair.

"I'm home!" he called into the house, before kicking off his scuffed grey shoes into the pile of boots and trainers on the floor and walking through into the next room.

"Toris! How was work?!" he heard someone shout back, and smiled as he saw twenty-one year old, boyish faced Raivis Galante skidding unsteadily into the room, fluffy light brown hair bouncing comically, clutching a saucepan in one hand and a pepper pot in the other.

"Someone's obviously cooking for a change," Toris commented pointedly. "God help us."

Raivis rolled his eyes. "Whatever. So how was work?"

"Yeah, alright," Toris answered, grinning at him and walking over to stand next to him. He ruffled his hair. "And how was playschool?"

Raivis prodded him with the saucepan, scowling light-heartedly. "Shut up. I'm nearly as old as you."

"Oh right, only five years to go," Toris remarked, grinning mischievously. "And that's what…? More than my whole life?"

Raivis shifted awkwardly, rolling his eyes. "You did _have_ a life before that, you know. I was there. You don't need to talk as if you're four years old. Hey, although then, that would make me about fifteen, sixteen years older than you. Cool!"

Toris rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you wish. I'm much more mature than you anyway."

"I don't know what you mean," Raivis said, a grin playing on his lips.

"Mm… " Toris let his gaze drift down to Raivis' feet. "And on a completely unrelated note, I'm loving the Sesame Street socks."

Raivis poked him again, flushing, and then turned away to walk back into the kitchen, saucepan swinging dangerously from his hand. He absent-mindedly threw the pepper pot up into the air and went to catch it again, but missed; and if Toris hadn't been right in step beside him with his hand out, waiting for that exact event to happen, it would have crashed onto the floor.

Raivis rolled his eyes and grabbed the pepper pot from Toris hand with a slight grin, heading for the kitchen. "You're welcome," Toris called after him, smiling.

"Eduard, Toris is home," Toris heard Raivis announce, and then grinned as that was followed with a:

"Yes Raivis, I do know – now for God's sake please stop swinging that saucepan around before you kill the microwave or something."

Toris walked into the kitchen to see his friend Eduard Von Bock, wearing an immaculately pressed suit and a resigned expression, attempting to wrest the pan from the grip of a very uncooperative and put-out-looking Raivis. "But I'm going to cook!" Raivis protested.

"Not if you don't want the house to be burnt to the ground within the next half-hour you're not," Eduard answered smoothly, grabbing the saucepan at last and setting it next to his laptop, dark-blond hair falling over his face. "And I'm personally quite fond of this house."

"Hi Eduard," Toris greeted, and Eduard turned to affix him with a smile.

"Hey. How was work?"

"So-so," Toris answered, shrugging. "My boss thinks I've been a little distracted recently, and he thinks that having subtly put up a picture of himself on the wall by my desk will help me focus."

Raivis smirked. "Lucky you. He looks like a troll."

"Be nice," Eduard said with a grin, poking Raivis' nose, who stuck his tongue out at him and made a face.

"But yeah, otherwise it was ok," Toris continued, blushing at his friends' blatant flirting.

Eduard looked sideways at him. "Anything else…exciting happen today?"

Toris felt himself go red as an image of Feliks' grinning face immediately popped into his mind. "N-no. Why do you ask?"

The Estonian grinned. "You look especially cheerful. Like I don't know, you met someone?"

Toris went even redder. "Shut up."

Raivis laughed. "Toris, it's obvious. Usually when you come in, you're all moody and glum because you hate your job… Today you called us as soon as you got in to say you were home, you've been all happy and smiley and you haven't complained once. So what's new? Sexy business-lady just started at the office?"

Toris spluttered. "I-"

"Sexy business-man?" Eduard prompted with a highly uncharacteristic giggle, and the two burst out laughing. Toris blushed deeper and turned away to trudge up the stairs.

"I'm leaving this house," he muttered.

* * *

When Toris finally came back downstairs, tempted by the fantastic smell emanating from the kitchen, it was to find Raivis dancing around on the tiles in his socks, waving what looked like a computer memory stick in his hand. Eduard was laughing and attempting to grab it back, but missing slightly every time as Raivis twirled out of his reach. As Toris watched, Eduard made one last frenzied grab for it, misjudged the distance, and collided with Raivis, his nose bashing the younger one's forehead. They both froze for a minute, even their laughter cutting off, blushing, staring into one another's eyes.

Toris' heart jolted and he looked away. He had known for a long time that Eduard and Raivis had been getting closer, and their flirting was obvious to everyone in a ten mile radius except themselves, but it still startled Toris whenever he saw a scene like this. As far as he knew, they had yet to make a move on one another, but it was clear to Toris that it wasn't far off. And though he was happy for them and he knew they would work well as a couple and it would be great if they did get together…well…if they did…where did that leave Toris?

Toris coughed nervously and Raivis and Eduard jumped apart, blushing furiously. Raivis fixed Toris with a sheepish expression and Eduard made another sly grab for the memory stick while he was distracted but Raivis saw him coming, grinned, and jerked it slightly out of reach.

Toris slid his hands in his pockets and walked towards them. "So, er, what's on the memory stick?"

Raivis grinned at him. "Eduard's porn."

Eduard's eyes flew open. "No!" he gasped. "I don't-!"

Raivis and Toris laughed and Eduard went even redder. "It's just some stuff for Ivan…" he murmured.

Raivis raised his eyebrows. "Wow, really? That's pretty heavy-duty, I mean, we all know how kinky Ivan is-"

Eduard smacked Raivis over the head with a large purple file he'd picked up from the desk. "It's not porn!" he yelled.

Laughing, Raivis twirled out of Eduard's reach, rubbing his head. "_Rude_."

Eduard scowled at him, flung the folder back on the desk and folded his arms, Raivis laughing. "I refuse to communicate further with you," Eduard muttered.

Raivis dangled the memory stick in front of his face. "No? Because if you're not going to say the magic word I won't give it back."

"You wouldn't give it back anyway…" Eduard muttered, but his eyes were following the memory stick longingly as Raivis waved it in front of his face.

"Tell me I'm beautiful and you can have it back," Raivis declared.

Eduard reddened. "I-!"

"So, er, what're you cooking, Eduard?" Toris asked quickly.

Eduard shot him a grateful glance and stepped back from the memory stick Raivis was still waving in front of his face. "Uh, just a random stew with whatever was left in the cupboards after Raivis raided them last night."

Raivis looked indignant. "Hey, I only took a packet of biscuits. And it's not like you can make dinner with Maryland chocolate chip cookies."

"You would know, you've tried," Toris said, and Raivis pouted.

"Shut up. I thought it was good."

"You thought that raw pasta was edible," Eduard chipped in.

"It is!" Raivis protested, and he went to open his mouth to say something else just as Eduard dived, wrenching the memory stick from his grasp and then stepping back and waving it in the air triumphantly.

"Haha!"

Toris shook his head, laughing. "You two are like five year olds, you realise?"

"Still older than you," Raivis pointed out, and Toris scowled at him, a grin still tugging at his lips.

"I notice you still have your sesame street socks on."

Raivis made a face back. "Sesame street _rules_."

* * *

It was late that night when Ivan finally returned home.

Toris was winning a game of scrabble against Raivis and Eduard, who had at first pleaded with him to play with them, but were rapidly losing interest now Toris was beating them.

Raivis was the first to hear the door bang, and he jumped up at once, eager for a distraction from the humiliation of losing the game he'd practically begged the others to play. "Hey Ivan!"

A soft "_Hello_," was all they heard in response, and just as Toris laid down another word, earning him fifty-three points and a dismayed scowl from Raivis' direction, the door opened and Ivan stepped in. He shrugged off his big winter coat and hooked it on one of the pegs on the wall, but still keeping his thick, omnipresent scarf on. He rubbed his hands, shivering slightly.

"S'cold out," he announced. "What're you all doing?"

Toris grinned. "Well, _they_ are failing at Russo-Liet-Latvi-Esti-Anglo scrabble."

"Russo…what?" Ivan looked confused, folded his arms together and shivered again.

"Scrabble in Russian, Lithuanian, Latvian, Estonian, and English," Eduard answered. "Russ-Liet-Latvi-Esti-Anglo Scrabble."

"Mm, catchy," Ivan said dryly, and they all laughed.

"Raivis spent all day writing Russian letters on this pack of blank tiles he forced me to buy. So we now have double the number of tiles," Eduard informed him. "Plus five dictionaries to check the dubious words Raivis keeps coming out with."

A smile crept onto Ivan's face and he walked towards the table, looked at Raivis' tiles, and then smirked. "No, Raivis, I don't think 'furgle' is a word. In _any_ of the languages."

Raivis scowled and covered his tiles with a hand. "Shut up. It should be."

"Furgle… sounds like a verb," Eduard mused, grinning.

"Furgle… To lose miserably at scrabble after spending half an hour pleading with everyone nearby to play with you," Toris suggested pointedly, smirking.

Raivis narrowed his eyes at him and the others laughed. "Okay, whatever, English is a stupid language anyway. We should cut it out of the game."

"But then it would just be Russo-Liet-Latvi-Esti scrabble," Eduard reminded him with a grin.

Ivan laughed. "Here's a thought, go to a shop and buy Russian scrabble."

The others moaned and he laughed again.

"Eduard, your turn," Toris said, grinning.

Silently Eduard laid down '_Videvik_' and smirked. "Ha. Raivis?"

Raivis looked alarmed, glanced at his tiles, and scowled even deeper. "Scrabble is an old man's game," he muttered murderously under his breath, and Toris snorted.

Raivis glared at him, before frantically starting to rearrange his tiles. After a pause he sat back, studying them hard, and Ivan looked at them again. Raivis wrinkled up his nose for a moment, there was a pause, and then Ivan snickered.

"No, I don't think 'Purvatord' is either."

They all burst out laughing and Raivis scowled, muttering under his breath.

"Just you wait. I'm going to kick your asses at boggle."

* * *

Toris' heart kept fluttering wildly this time.

As soon as Toris stepped onto the platform the next day, shivering from the sudden chill the November morning had brought, he'd spotted Feliks leaning against the wall on the right, dressed today in a thick woollen beige jumper and a pair of tight black jeans, hands encased in bright pink mittens and phone held up to his ear, chatting animatedly as usual. Toris smiled, then suddenly stopped walking.

Feliks was on his phone. What was Toris supposed to do? Should he walk over and wave, or ignore him, or wait until they got onto the train, or hang on until Feliks got off his phone…? Toris bit his lip. He already knew from experience that Feliks' phone calls could last the whole train journey, and longer. He didn't really fancy that route...

So Toris cautiously walked over, stopped about a metre away, and leant against the wall there. Shivering from the cold, he wrapped his arm around himself and wished he'd had the forethought to steal Raivis' fluffy yellow Pac-man gloves for the day.

"No, I'm telling you, he had no idea, I mean, like, his face just stayed the same, there was just nothing, you know what it's like when- oh, goodness, hi Toris!"

Feliks broke off abruptly from his phone call as he noticed Toris. Almost a little flustered, he grinned and held up a finger as if to say 'one moment, sorry', and then rolled his eyes and pointed exasperatedly at the squealing phone, where the person on the other end seemed to be rather excitable. "Yes, yes, I know… No! Look, I'll keep you posted… No, shhh! Pffft… Okay, okay, I'll see you soon Kat. Yeah. Bye. Love you. Totally. Bye."

Feliks clicked his phone off, blushing a little, then shoved it in his pocket. "Hi! Sorry about that," he said, sending a sweet flustered grin Toris' way. Toris' heart fluttered suddenly and he blushed. "No problem. I'm the one intruding," he said quietly, looked at the ground.

"Pffft, not at all," Feliks snorted, waving a bright pink gloved hand dismissively. "So, like, how are you today?"

"Yeah, good thanks. Kind of sleepy though, my housemates kept me up till two o'clock playing five-language boggle," Toris replied, grinning.

Feliks' eyes widened. "Wow, five languages? You're like, fluent in five?"

"Uh, well, fluent in three, I just know a few bits and pieces from the other two. And it wasn't really a proper game, one of my friends created it himself. It's about twice the size, full of loads of different letters from different languages, and kind of stuck together with gaffotape," Toris answered.

Feliks laughed incredulously. "Wow. Which languages are those?"

"Uh…" Toris brushed some hair from his forehead. "English, Russian, Lithuanian, Estonian and Latvian. I live with three other guys and we all come from different countries. We all speak English as a second language though. Hence five language boggle."

"Oh! Any Polish?" Feliks asked.

Toris cocked his head to one side. "No, I don't speak any Polish at all."

"Ah, right. Shame." Feliks grinned, but there was a trace of disappointment in his eyes. "I'm Polish!"

"Oh!" Toris smiled. "I'm Lithuanian."

"I speak a bit of Lithuanian," Feliks said proudly. "Aš pradėjau mokytis jį prieš keletą metų!"

Toris gasped, then beamed. "Very good! You're going to have to teach me a bit of Polish."

Feliks visibly flinched, then caught himself and looked embarrassed. "Sorry."

Toris frowned but didn't know what to make of it. "Uh, I-"

"No, no, that's fine! Sorry, I don't know what happened. It would be, like, totally cool to teach you Polish," Feliks amended, grinning sheepishly.

Toris shook his head and laughed, a little confused. "Okay."

Feliks grinned back at him. "Right. The most important thing to learn in any language is obviously how to say-"

And at that moment his words were drowned out by a rush of air blowing onto the platform, and then the trademark rattling that signified the train was approaching. Toris grinned as both he and Feliks turned as one, without even having said a word, to head towards where the front of the train would stop.

He always got into the first carriage whenever he caught a train. He didn't know why, but he did, and lately he'd noticed that the only reason he'd seen Feliks every day must be because Feliks always took the first carriage as well.

"So, er, first carriage, right?" Toris asked.

"_Always_," Feliks answered, grinning, and together they hurried down to the end of the platform.

* * *

A few minutes later, when Toris and Feliks were both safely seated in the first carriage, Toris in the window seat, Feliks next to him, and the train had moved off again, on its way to London, Toris shook his hair back from his face and grinned across as Feliks, who was picking absently at a loose thread on one of his mittens.

"So what exactly do you do for a living?" he asked.

Feliks looked delighted at the question and he set his gloves down in his lap with a bright smile. "I'm an interior designer!" he said proudly. "I've only been doing it for, like, the last five years or so, but I'm doing okay at it and I've left a lot of people totally pleased."

Toris smiled. "That sounds a lot more interesting than what I do. Did you study for it?"

"Well, like, uh, I did a bit of studying in Poland before I came here - which was totally awesome by the way, I learnt so much and I got some really good contacts. But then - I mean, I guess I'd always known I'd wind up in England really - I just decided to up sticks and come here. And it's working out great so far!"

Toris laughed. "That's brilliant. Did you speak English before you came?"

"Um, well, uh…" Feliks faltered and Toris frowned slightly. Feliks sighed almost inaudibly. "I had a great friend back when I was in Russia. He, uh, he was the one who taught me Lithuanian-"

"_Oh_-!" Toris couldn't help himself exclaiming.

"-and the two of us were learning English together. We were like, getting quite good at it too," Feliks said, with a small smile.

Toris grinned. "That's quite helpful, I imagine, to be able to learn another language with someone else. Makes it more enjoyable I guess."

Feliks' hand curled slightly, involuntarily, from where it was sitting in his lap, a small movement, as if he hadn't meant for Toris to see it. He gave Toris a smile. "You know, that's like, exactly what he said to me."

Toris smiled back. "I, er, I had lots of people to help me learn English – I mean, when I first, uh, woke up, you know, from the coma, I… I didn't know any English at all to begin with. But I had my friends to help me. So it wasn't too bad."

Feliks looked at him. "So, er, like, what languages did you speak when you first woke up?"

Toris twisted his fingers in his lap. "Well, uh, for the first bit, nothing at all, because everything was so confusing and bright and overwhelming… But after a while we discovered I could speak Lithuanian and Russian. Ivan told me I'm Lithuanian by birth, but spent a lot of time in Russia with him and Eduard and Raivis, so I guess that's probably why," he explained.

Feliks had flinched again while Toris was saying this, and Toris was starting to find the Pole's rapidly oscillating, twisting and turning emotions a little confusing. He cocked his head to one side and Feliks looked guilty.

"I'm sorry, this is just, uh, like, bringing back a few memories. I, uh, I spent a lot of time in Russia also," Feliks said slowly. "This, uh, this best friend of mine, he lived there as well. We were, uh, great friends. But, um, well, stuff happened. You know. As it does."

Toris swallowed. "I, uh, I can stop talking about this if you want, I mean, there's lots of stuff we could talk about instead, like, uh, well, I'm an accountant and-"

"No, no!" Feliks interrupted quickly, bringing a finger up as if to place it on Toris' lips to shush him, but then going bright red and snatching his finger away. He coughed nervously. "Uh, totally sorry about that…"

Toris looked at him for a minute and then burst out laughing. "Goodness, Feliks, it's fine. Relax!"

And though he had no idea why, the words seemed to work and Feliks sighed and settled back further into the train's plush seat.

That smell! There is was again! At Feliks' sudden movement, a wildly familiar scent washed over Toris, bringing back such a painful jolt of nostalgia he had to grab onto the arm of the chair to stop himself falling forward. Feliks looked concerned and shifted around to face him.

"Are-are you alright Toris?"

Toris caught himself. "Uh, yeah, sure. Sorry. It's just…you smell like, uh…"

_Like memories._

Feliks raised an eyebrow.

"Uh… Nice. You smell nice," Toris finished lamely, and Feliks laughed.

"Okay, uh thanks!"

There was a pause while Feliks just grinned mischievously at him, as if holding back a laugh, and then as he raised an eyebrow, Toris burst out laughing.

"Oh, sorry, I, oh," he muttered, but was laughing as he said it, and soon Feliks was in hysterics too.

A man in front of them turned around to look disapprovingly through the gap between the seats at them, but Toris found he couldn't stop laughing and the action seemed to be just about as effective on Feliks.

At long last when the laughter had started to fade, Toris breathed out slowly and smiled gently at Feliks, who returned it easily. Toris' heart leaped suddenly in his chest but he didn't push away the feeling this time.

After a moment of just simply looking at each other, Toris looked away with a smile, and stared out of the window, where the countryside was rushing by in a blur.

Feliks' hand was resting over the minute gap between their seats, but it was as if it were much closer. Toris could feel the heat emanating from Feliks' pale skin as if it were burning into him, leaving him warm and just ever so slightly breathless.

They didn't say anything else, but they didn't need to.

Toris smiled. This time he was really starting to feel like he knew Feliks. And the more he did, he more he liked him.

* * *

When Toris finally resurfaced from absently watching the world rushing by the window, he realised that they seemed to be nearing the station. His heart sank imperceptibly.

"We're nearly at Euston," he commented, looking back at Feliks, who smiled at him.

"Oh, ok! But I'll see you on the train home though, won't I?" Feliks said, grinning and making Toris' heart jump again in the way he was _slowly_ getting accustomed to.

"I er...I'd like that," Toris said breathlessly.

Feliks smiled warmly. "Well, Liet, this has been a _totally_ awesome train journey!" he announced.

Toris frowned. "Huh? Liet?"

Feliks froze.

"Uh, I'm sorry, I, uh…" he said frantically.

Toris raised his eyebrows. "Are you ok?"

Feliks took a breath. "Yeah, sorry. It was, uh...like, um, Liet was my nickname for the name of the guy who, who taught me Lithuanian... You, uh, you remind me a little of him..."

Toris laughed and Feliks seemed to relax slightly. After a moment when he had said nothing more, Toris shook his hair back from his face. "And, uh did he have a nickname for you?"

Feliks looked up, and his eyes met Toris', startling him a little. There was a pause and then Feliks said quietly "No. He never… He never came up with one."

The sudden sadness in his eyes shocked Toris for a moment and he shifted slightly in his chair, all too aware in the abrupt silence of how close they were sitting to one another and how the train kept subtly jogging them so that Feliks' hair kept brushing Toris' face and how if Feliks moved his arm just half an inch closer it would be resting on Toris' leg and-

"But anyway," Feliks laughed, straightening up and brushing off the sad expression as if it was a cobweb. "This is the present, and I quite like the present, because you're in it, and I, ooh, look, we're at the station," he said brightly, leaning across Toris to peer out of the window.

Thoughts spinning, Toris took a breath and instead nearly inhaled some of Feliks' hair, as the Pole leant across his lap to look out of the window.

Feliks' hair was a soft honey yellow sort of colour, blonde but not overly so. And it smelt wonderful. Toris could identify some sort of fruity shampoo, but also a faint tinge of something almost a little chemically, sweet, but slightly metallic, a bit like, almost like...

Feliks leant back into his own seat and Toris sat up straight, abruptly, feeling sheepish.

Feliks grinned at him. "You alright?"

"Yeah, fine," Toris said quickly, and Feliks giggled.

"You are funny. Right. So, er, I guess I'll see you on the train home then?"

"Yes," Toris said instantly. He blushed. "I mean, if you're okay with-"

"Of course!" Feliks beamed widely, then as the train finally crawled to a stop and he stood, swinging his bag onto his shoulder, he smiled gently down at Toris, who was struggling to get up and lift his own bag with only one arm. Feliks held out a hand, which Toris took gratefully, and pulled him to his feet.

"I'm glad to have met you, Toris," Feliks said softly, and Toris had to let go of his hand and abruptly become very interested in the strap of his bag to conceal how red his face had suddenly gone.

Feliks laughed and as he started getting pulled away, towards the doors and off the train by the flow of people moving onto Euston Station, Toris finished fiddling with his bag and followed after him quickly.

And the last Toris saw of him that morning was as he turned to see Feliks walking away down the platform, when the Pole unexpectedly turned around and blew him a kiss.

And Toris' legs suddenly turned to jelly and he wound up having to apologise profusely to a poor woman for five minutes after having collided with her as he quickly stumbled forward to go on his way, face bright red, lips bent in a sheepish grin, and heart fluttering wildly.

* * *

**A.N**

Happy update, sweeties!

I'm sorry it's taken time! I've been extremely hectic of late and with so many stories on the go I'm sure you can imagine... Plus I have a birthday fic to writing! Gah! But I finally got out chapter 2 of This Time. I'm really starting to get into this story :D I love it so much.

Okay, you all know by now that the song fitted to this fic is 'Alive' by Gabrielle Aplin. It's amazing :3 so go look it up if you haven't already!

Um, I'm not sure really what to say! Uh, thanks everyone for being patient with me, and for all the love :D reviews from the last chapter were simply fabulous, darlings, don't ever stop being wonderful :)

Also, someone let me know if you would be interested in getting my tumblr :D I'm just wondering!

My life hasn't changed a lot... I'm back at school for my last year of secondary before I move on to Sixth Form, I'm still just as fandom-obsessed as ever! I can't wait for Catching Fire to come out (Hunger Games fangirl right here), I'm also excited for Halloween (I'm so sad) and I'm even looking forward to Christmas already! Good god!

To my followers, the next thing I am going to put online is 'To Build A Heart' (SuFin). It's possibly my favourite fic of this AU and it's very feelsy but also (in my opinion) kind of moving and thought-provoking too!

Right! 'Videvik' is Estonian for 'Twilight', and 'Aš pradėjau mokytis jį prieš keletą metų' is Lithuanian for 'I started learning it several years ago'. I apologise profusely of ether of these are wrong - google translate is not exactly blindly reliable!

Anyway, I love you all as usual, reviews would be amazing, and I hope you enjoyed!

Keep dreaming!

Charli xxx


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